Alone Time

Jacob knew better than to rock climb alone. His usual partner, Martha, was out of town attending a business meeting with their boss. Jacob couldn’t help but wonder if Martha was banging the boss. He tried to push the thought out of his mind. He didn’t need the distraction, especially since this particular cliff was tricky. Falling was a possibility, even for a climber of his ability.

He found a toe hold sufficient to allow him to continue his ascent when his boss’s image invaded Jacob’s thoughts. He handed Joseph a bundle of papers in an accordion folder. “I’d like you to prepare and deliver a presentation for the senior staff.” Jacob wondered if this was a way for the boss to justify taking Martha with him to Vegas.  He decided one decision had nothing to do with the other. Just as he felt more secure, he lost his toehold and began to fall.

He regained his balance and continued his ascent. His mind perked up when he heard a voice. A female. One he thought he knew. Martha? Wishing him luck? Laughing at him?

He looked up for his next perch when the wall groaned and opened a schism in the mountain side. He pushed off to get around the opening, but it moved with him. The gap increased and so did the number of voices, some speaking in languages other than English.

Jacob looked down hoping for a miracle as the wall continued to open so that only his toes were touching the moss-covered rock. He flexed his knees preparing for one last lunge but was sucked inside the wall and held in place until the gap closed. 

The interior made Jacob think of a womb, warm, non-threatening. He also saw the source of the voice he’d heard. “Mom?”

“Welcome home.”

My Friend

First published in Flash Phantoms.

Binky’s Bar was full of grown, yet still adolescent, men. The smells of sweat and garlic pizza permeated the darkness. A jukebox struggled to be heard. Once acclimated, I turned my attention to the young woman sitting at the bar. Auburn hair capped a gentle face. The voice in my head named her Queen Bee for the way the nearby drones swarmed around her. I wanted to ask her out, but I couldn’t. I had to bury the twins first. I’d planned to do that right away, while they were still warm. My friend wouldn’t let me. Damn my friend.

OOPS!

 A post went out earlier today stating this site is no longer being updated. This not the case. This site is, and will remain, active. You can expect new stories over the next few days.

Thanks for you patience.

Jim

Highway Robbery

A rusty blue Cadillac rolled around the blind corner spitting and wheezing. It stopped a few feet from where a bearded sprite sat on his haunches holding a Stop sign. The red of the sign matched the color of the sprite’s blazer and tam combo.

“Good afternoon…um…whatever you are,” the heavyset driver said, cranking down the window. He looked around at the fall trees dressed in various shades of red and yellow and green, took a hankie out, and wiped his brow. “Gets pretty humid here.”

“Yes, sir,” the sprite replied. “It’ll be better once spring arrives.”

“Do you have a name?” the driver asked.

“Flash.”

“Flash? But aren’t you a…um…?”

“Sprite. And proud of it,” Flash said.

“Well, I better be going. I’m already late for a business retreat.”

“Nice meeting you,” Flash replied. “That’ll be $98.38.”

“Say what?” 

“This is a toll road. You have to pay to use it. Plus, all the monies collected go to a fund to save the forest,” Flash said, his fingers crossed behind his back.

“That’s highway robbery, and besides, I don’t give a damn about the forest.” 

“More like country road robbery.” the sprite said, straight-faced. “And you should care. The trees are beneficial in many ways.

“Well, I’m not paying,” the man said, reaching for the gear shift.

“Before you go, there’s something you need to know.” Flash lowered the sign and pointed to the front of the vehicle. “While you and I were chatting, Miranda, my wife, cuddled up against a front tire for a nap. My son Junior did the same in the back.” Flash held out his hands, palms up and hunched his shoulders. “You wouldn’t want to deprive a son of his mother, or a mother her only child.”

“I don’t have that much cash on me,” the man said, revving the engine in warning.

“We also take credit and bank transfers.”

“Oh, all right,” the man said, a scowl outlining his face. He took out his wallet and handed over five twenties. “Keep the change,” the man said, giving Flash the finger.

Flash smiled in return and waved goodbye.

Later, Miranda rested her head against Flash's shoulder. “You know how I get horny when you score like that.”

“Uh-huh.”

“Maybe you could send Junior on an errand,” she said, a finger meandering lazily down his torso.

“Junior,” Flash yelled. “I need you to run an errand.”

“Again?” Junior replied.

The Accidental Suicide

First published at Short-Story.me.

Whack!

Jessica swings the axe and curses Wendy, her thirteen year old daughter. She’s in her room sulking, as usual. An annoying noise she calls music escapes to the backyard where Jessica continues her therapy.

Whack!

She takes another swing, this one for ten-year-old Albert, who continues to whine about not getting the right baseball mitt for his birthday. He’s not a catcher. What do I know about baseball? His dad goes to the games. He’s the one who bought the glove. “A guy thing,” he said.

Whack!

Speaking of . . . Jack's no angel, moping around the house all weekend complaining he’s bored. Jessica offered him a to do list to help fill in his time. 1. Rake the leaves. 2. Mow the lawn. 3. Plug the hole in the fence so our terrier Frankie doesn’t sneak out and bring home a new friend, or worse friends. 

“I just remembered,” Jack says and trots out the door to meet up with Max, his high school buddy, for a beer. So much for his husband of the year trophy.

Whack!

Jessica's never swung an axe before. She didn’t know they owned one until she went to get a rake. It is a great way to rid one’s mind of negativity. Much better than raking leaves.

“Mom, ” Wendy yells from her bedroom window. “Mr. Roberts called. He said he’s coming over to help and that you shouldn’t do anymore chopping until he gets here. He said you’re doing it wrong.”

Whack!

What could that old buttinsky want? 

Whack!

Jessica takes one more swing, moves a few paces away, and hears a loud prolonged groan as the tree falls in the opposite direction she thought it would.